Loss
by Silent-Vociferation
Summary: Loss had plagued Onmund's life a long time, but something new had come along. Something he couldn't stand to lose.


This was one of the prompts for Fandom February. I had meant to do the others, but as my friend bestowed upon me Dragon Age, I soon became enraptured and lost my inspiration to finish out the month with my Onmund/Dovakhiin fics. But I know there has to be some Onmund fans out there, so I hope you enjoy this fanfic.

The Dovakhiin is left nameless so that you can pretend she's yours. For the most part. My portrayal of the Dovakhiin tends to have magical preferences.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Elder Scrolls series.

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Onmund's first memory of the Dragonborn was surrounded by loss. She had shown up to the College, been there all of two seconds, and suddenly they were all off to Saarthal, and she was talking to him about the ruins and all he could think about was the corpses and the loss his ancestors and family had felt for them all. He was disgusted, because as his fellow mages eagerly ripped apart the history of his blood he could only watch. No, he was _supposed to__ join in_. And every time he saw a small shrine tucked into the corner, that blasted Khajit running his soft paws over the gold coins and other offerings, he felt more loss. He didn't want to lose

She hadn't done anything, had actually kept her distance from just about everything. He thought perhaps she heard his bitter muttering, but had dismissed it, because why would she care? The crypts weren't full of _her_ dead.

Besides, like all the others the Dovakhiin eventually picked something up. An amulet that triggered a trap.

But then again, when it finally dawned on her that the only way to free herself was by casting a spell at the door, she hesitated. Her eyes flickered towards him, and after worrying her lip for a few moments more she summoned weak fire to her hands.

He was happy to see how uncomfortable the decision made her, as awful as that sounded.

Onmund's second memory of her was also full of loss. He'd foolishly traded away the last reminder of his family, and in that moment for whatever reason he had convinced himself that it was over. Without that amulet he truly had nothing to tie him to his mother and father. Even if they hated his choice, he didn't want to lose the connection he had with them.

She had caught him fretfully pacing his room as she returned to her own. She wanted to know what was wrong, wanted to hunt down this other student before he'd even asked if she would. She vanished up the stone steps and he didn't hear from her for several days.

But then she returned, the amulet in her grasp, and the words were out of his mouth before he even thought them through.

"If you ever need someone, if there's somewhere you have to go, something you have to do, I'll go. I'll do it."

The Dovakhiin smiled, happy with his sincere offer, but she tried to keep to herself. Until, one day, she approached him about a quest. He knew she was not only a mage. She was a member of the Companions, and had received a special quest that she could not take a shield brother or sister on. She said if anyone found out that she'd been given the quest, they might not take it well, but she didn't want to do it alone. She'd dealt with witches before, and doing it alone never boded well for her. Onmund saw in her eyes it was best not to pry as to why she needed their heads.

He eagerly agreed instead. He'd been cooped up in the freezing college for weeks now, and he didn't want to lose this opportunity to get out and test his new spells.

Soon the one opportunity became five, ten.

Their eighteenth quest together took them to Dwarven ruins, where mechanical spiders and Falmer were in abundance. But Onmund and the Dragonborn always killed them before they could near them for an attack.

After clearing one room, she spotted a locked golden gate and ran over with glee. He found that when it came to abandoned treasure chests no one could be more excited than her. He ignored the fact that she was picking locks, because really, who was she stealing from? A cave? A dusty, hollow series of halls and rock?

Besides, he liked to watch the way her eyes lit up when she found whatever was inside. On their ninth mission it had been a dress, and she had giggled before starting to strip _in front of him_. An undignified squeak had left him as he'd whirled away from her and she slid into the garment. When he finally turned back around, he found he couldn't say much of anything. She was the Dragonborn, and any of the dozens of praises and poetic words that sprang to mind as he looked at her beauty now accented in a completely different way had probably already been told to her by some Jarl or grateful guard.

But this time as she investigated the peculiar golden chest in the Dwarven ruins, he found her eyes actually darkened, and with quick and careful movements she pulled whatever was inside out and shoved it into her pack before he could even catch a glimpse.

Onmund tried not to ask her what it was.

He failed.

"I'm not quite sure myself. But I want to check before I tell you, just in case I'm wrong," she explained. She suddenly seemed distant, contemplative, and his heart clenched. He didn't want to lose the friendship they had been forming.

He didn't see her for a few days after that. As the Dragonborn, it was likely that she had been called by the Greybeards.

When she returned, Onmund couldn't help but feel that something was different about her.

And then he saw the amulet hanging from her neck, and she was murmuring the words 'from the Dwarven ruins'.

They were quick to seek out a priest of Mara. There was simply something about the whole thing. They both felt that the wedding couldn't happen fast enough.

At least not until he was patiently waiting and hearing the door crack open, signaling her arrival, and suddenly he just wanted the whole thing to stop. Because what if, in going through with the marriage, they lost everything they had ever been to each other? Onmund wasn't sure he could do it. He loved what they had.

But then she was walking towards him in that dress from their ninth mission, and his eyes were widening and his hood slid from his head and he could barely form the vows.

Most newly weds discussed living arrangements afterwards, but she never mentioned it. He knew she had a few homes thanks to being a Thane in several places, so he figured she'd simply pick her favorite and he'd turn it into his home. It would take time. There was no way he'd be able to go on any adventures with her for a while as he got his belongings sorted out, as they got their affiliation with the College sorted out.

But the topic never came up no matter how many times he attempted. All she would do was laugh and speak warmly of all the moments they had shared and kiss him repeatedly in front of people no matter how many times he blushed.

So, with a heavy and confused heart, he followed her back to the College of Winterhold. Why? Why was it like this? Why were they going back to the College?

Maybe it was as his mother had always told him when he asked why she always stayed home while his father went out. Because someone always had to take care of home. Maybe his Dragonborn felt that the College was her true home, maybe felt that to Onmund it was home, and had opted for continuing to live there even as new spouses for his sake.

He couldn't understand quite why, but he had in his panic lost his ability to communicate with her, and had instead reached the conclusion that he was the one meant to take care of the home, even if for the Dovakhiin that was the College.

Onmund tried not to look too disappointed as he returned to his room without her.

But then a shadow fell on him from the archway leading into his dorm, and he glanced over at her familiar silhouette.

"Well, are you ready?" she asked brightly.

He was suddenly very confused, because he thought that by not picking a house she had sentenced him to a life at the College.

So why was she asking if he was ready? For what? He stared at her, lacking comprehension.

A slow grin crept onto her face. "Not coming? Your loss."

And then it occurred to him. She hadn't picked a house because she wanted him to stay at the College. She hadn't picked a house because she wanted him _with her. _Always. Not cooped up in walls, alone with belongings.

Suddenly everything seemed very different.

He ran after her, because sometimes he was going to lose things he didn't want to, but of all the things to lose, he knew it _couldn't be her_.

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I have now done my part, contributing to the dismal amount of Onmund/Dovakhiin fanfiction. Reviews, critiques, and comments are much appreciated. Thank you very much for reading!

Sivo


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